


Cry More than June

by punk_rock_yuppie



Category: Rocketman (2019) RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Barebacking, Crying During Sex, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, M/M, Slight Crying Kink, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-06-07
Packaged: 2020-04-12 03:07:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19123318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punk_rock_yuppie/pseuds/punk_rock_yuppie
Summary: This was probably inevitable.





	Cry More than June

**Author's Note:**

> I had this thought, it happened, now we're here. Dedicated to Pip, who enables all my Madderton feelings and ideas! 
> 
> Thanks to Hannah for beta'ing!!
> 
> Enjoy!

It starts when Richard slides in to the hilt for the first time. He’s just spent upwards of an hour fingering this beautiful man open, and now he’s finally got his cock inside that tight, wet heat. He’s admiring how Taron looks, stretched around his cock and flushed a delicious pink, when a soft sniffle catches his ear. Richard looks up, greedily following the lines of Taron’s body, to see Taron’s mouth open and his eyes wet, cheeks sticky with tear tracks.

“Taron,” Richard says. It’s not quite fear or panic in his voice, but something edging there. He leans forward and swallows a hiss at the change in angle, how good it feels. “Love, talk to me.”

Taron shakes his head and throws an arm over his face. “S’fine,” he slurs. “Keep going, Rich, please.”

Richard wants to, _fuck_ , does he want to. But he can see the low light of their bedroom glinting off the tears running down Taron’s face and he just _can’t_. “Talk to me,” he demands. He leans forward so their chests brush and so he can gently kiss at the line of Taron’s jaw. “Let me help.”

“Nothing to do to help.”

“Come now, I won’t tease ye.”

“That’s a lie,” Taron says with what could be a hiccup or a laugh. He still turns his head and accepts a kiss from Richard. They both sigh into it and slowly Taron winds his arms around Richard’s shoulders, instead of throwing them over his face. “S’embarrassing.” His voice is small the same way as when he cries at a film, the same way when he sees some wonderful act of kindness that just strikes a chord.

Understanding comes swiftly to Richard and he grins against Taron’s lips. He peppers kisses over the man’s cheek and tastes the salt of his tears. “Ye cry at everything, love. This really isn’t surprising. Or embarrassing.”

“Wanker,” Taron hisses, the word coming apart as Richard pulls out and thrusts in again. Tears well up anew in Taron’s eyes and spill down his cheeks. “Ahh, _fuck_ , Richard.” He wipes at his eyes but Richard pushes his arm away.

“Don’ worry about it,” Richard murmurs against Taron’s ear. “You look so lovely, fucked out on my cock like this.”

Another hiccup, another wet moan. Richard pulls out again and rocks forward slowly, barely teasing Taron with an inch or two. He’d thought Taron would be greedy, begging for it and urging Richard to go faster. Taron isn’t; he shudders and tilts his head back and lets out choked-off little sounds, wet and breathy like he can’t get enough air. His eyes are squeezed shut and tears slip out each time Richard rocks forward with a gentle thrust.

“So beautiful,” Richard says quietly. He leans back and takes Taron by the hips. He slows his thrusts to a stop until Taron finally opens his eyes again. They’re red rimmed and shimmering. “Look at ye.” Richard pulls back before slamming forward hard enough that the headboard slaps against the wall—at the same time wringing a wet gasp from Taron’s throat. Richard already knows he wants to hear more of that sound, the desperate noise like Taron’s drowning in his feelings.

Richard sits up straighter and lifts Taron by the hips for a better angle and starts up a brutal pace. Taron takes it easily; his hands are locked in the sheets underneath them and he’s gulping around every sound punched out of him. The tears are coming slower now, but the tracks left behind are shining on his cheeks and Richard reaches out with a shaking hand to wipe at the salt-sticky sheen.

“Fucking lovely,” he hisses, grinding his cock forward and listening to Taron choke on his moans. “Could keep ye like this forever.”

Taron’s whole body tenses and shudders. “Fuck, Richard,” and _god_ his voice sounds wrecked. A trembling and watery thing.

Without relenting in his frenzied pace, Richard falls forward and braces an elbow beside Taron’s head. “Let me hear you, love. You sound so perfect, so _pretty_.”

Taron shivers and nods. His eyes open for another brief second, and Richard meets his teary gaze before Taron’s eyes slam shut again. His body shakes with the force of his next sob, one that trails off into a wanton moan when Richard thrusts in again. Again and again, each punishing thrust forcing another whine from Taron. He stops holding back and his voice warbles as his cries blend with his moans and _fuck_ . Richard never thought he’d have a _thing_ for this but—

—But Taron’s eyes red-rimmed and wet, mouth open and kiss-flushed, the most debauched sounds filling up the room around them along with the _slap slap slap_ of skin on skin.

“Fuck, Richard!” Taron presses his face against the pillow.

“Touch yourself, darling,” Richard says. “Come for me like you’re crying for me.”

Taron’s gaze snaps to him and he barely gets a hand around himself before he’s coming. His back arches and his arse tightens around Richard’s cock and his come splatters along his stomach. Taron whimpers and whines, gasping Richard’s name in between breathless sobs, and he manages to say, “ _Please,_ Richard.”

Richard slams forward one last time as he comes. He ruts forward, never pulling out, as he spills inside Taron, deep and filthy wet. Taron squirms under him as Richard’s hips finally slow, though he still doesn’t pull out. He does sink forward, uncaring for the come sticking to his stomach as he presses himself against Taron.

Taron’s still sniffling and hiccupping. Richard brushes the tears from Taron’s eyes and tenderly kisses his forehead. “Sorry,” Taron says.

“For what?”

Taron pins him with an unimpressed glare.

“I don’ mind, you know that.” Richard kisses another protest from Taron’s lips. “In fact…” It’s Richard’s turn to blush. He ducks his face against Taron’s damp neck to hide it. “It’s rather hot.”

Taron’s fingers, stroking along Richard’s back, stop. “Really?”

Richard busies himself with finally pulling out; he relishes Taron’s shiver, as well as the sight of come lazily leaking from his hole. He collapses at Taron’s side and when the other man rolls to face him, Richard doesn’t bother hiding his face again.

“Yes,” he says instead. “You’re gorgeous, love.” Richard pats Taron’s cheek, grinning. “I cannae say you crying while you’re full of my cock is exactly the worst thing tae have happened in bed.”

Taron bites his bottom lip and his eyes shimmer brightly with delight instead of tears. “You’re a pervert.”

Richard rolls his eyes. He drags his hand from Taron’s cheek down his neck, his chest—pausing to tease a pert nipple—until he can curl his fingers around Taron’s hip. He yanks the other man minutely closer. The sheets bunch up underneath them both. Taron’s still grinning even as Richard does his best to impose, to loom as much as one can while laying sideways.

“Brat,” Richard says before cracking up, Taron joining him quickly in laughter. Richard watches him laugh and when the room falls silent, he knows what he wants to say. “I like this about ye, the crying. You’ve got such a lovely heart, Taron. I like seeing that side of ye.”

Predictably, Taron’s eyes are wet at the corners yet again. “You’re the fuckin’ worst,” he says before surging forward.

Richard laughs as Taron kisses him again, tasting salt.


End file.
